


Imperfections

by Klawdee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Scars, hurt comfort, mention of past injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klawdee/pseuds/Klawdee
Summary: A Strictly Lumione Valetine's fest 2021Prompted.Just a glimpse of a season of thawing for Lucius and reflection for Hermione
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 30
Collections: Rare Pairs RHM Read for LoveFest, Strictly Lumione Valentines Fest 2021





	Imperfections

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> "If I could, I would kiss away all your scars."

** Imperfections **

_"In every block of marble I see a statue as plain as though it stood before me, shaped and perfect in attitude and action._

_I have only to hew away the rough walls that imprison the lovely apparition to reveal it to the other eyes as mine see it."_

_-Michelangelo_

His skin is like alabaster— so fair and seemingly perfect.

Almost without blemish. Perhaps that’s why— the vision of the pink and red flush blooming on his slick chest and the practically violent path up his neck; a path from her lips and teeth gave her such satisfaction. At the sight of his austere expression breaking with pleasure and a thousand deaths; she digs her nails into his shoulders throwing her head back, joining him in ecstasy.

As they lay there, in a tangle of sweat dampened sheets catching their breaths, her eyes catch that thin pearl line branching on his side. An abrupt lash ending over his rib. A mar on his otherwise luminous form. The line, a part of a work of thin cross hatched scars rather finely litters his back. In which, she would only catch a glimpse of when he would move to immediately dress after their… vigorous love making. The fair marks so light in color as the rest of his flesh, that the light would need to reflect on them, just right to see them. But after seeing them, she couldn’t seem to unsee the slight etching into his porcelain skin.

She was obsessed. She herself had many scars. Hers were rather unsightly. Raised. Puckered and purple. Despite its age it still looked angry and to her… ugly. But his? They were an imperfect beauty. Like an interesting vein carved in the marble of a Roman statue. 

A summer sunbeam shines through a break in her curtains causing it to glitter as his breathing mellows. The overwhelming need to trace it overtakes her again. And as she lightly traces the tip, he stiffens slightly. Surprisingly, instead of pulling away to dress, as he typically would at the hint of any… unnecessary after coitus touching, he sighs and pulls her close. So close that she can no longer trace that particular line. So, she watches his resting face. A rare sight for her. His closed eyes squint in irritation as that teasing ray shines directly on him. Its halo giving false angelic aura. Taking advantage of this new closeness she strokes the side of his face, his jaw, and the rim of his ear. He leans into it a moment. Savoring it, before his eyes flash open and watches her wearily before they shutter and glitter curiously. She moves her hand to stroke through the long strands of his cornsilk hair. Leaning up, she presses a soft but firm kiss to his forehead, “if I could, I would kiss away all your scars.” Pulling back, she stares as caringly as can muster into his weary eyes and climbs down. Grabbing onto the poster of her modest bed for balance? For security? She turns again to see Lucius still wearily watching her, “feel free to stay if you’d like. As long as you’d like. I should be back before… well I should be back before its too late.” She rushes into her bathroom to freshen up for the rest of her workday. Stepping back into an empty bedroom.

Months pass by since her attempt of more. At first his almost daily owls stopped during that first week post cuddle. Or embrace as he would later declare it. Nearly two, when his letter finally graced her desk in the middle of a hectic work morning. It had seemed to burn hole in her desk as she went through her agenda. She had tried to ignore it. Figuring it would be the typical note. Usually, it would reference some issue with his abode or current muggle employment— or some other thinly veiled reason to get her alone in the afternoon. And when she would arrive, he would keep her waiting by the door to eventually follow her to her own flat, conveniently down the hall. But this missive was different. She felt it. Or perhaps it was part of his game. But she felt it had to have held the turning point in their relationship. Whether a request of another Ministry liaison, which she felt would be bad. As there would be questions as to the why after almost two years. The usual which would also be pathetic for her, as she couldn’t bare to go on this way but knew she would. Or something different. Nonetheless between the pile of research and meetings that she needed to attend; her curiosity had won out. And inside the hastily torn rolled parchment and broken wax seal; in his fine script- there was just three words, “I miss you.” Game or not; her frustration and anger had melted. And she hurried away to him.

Since then, he has spent increasingly more and more time with her. Slow at first, his small summer confession, in three mere but powerful words, were the most vulnerable he’s allowed himself to overtly be. Not counting the humiliation of being forced by the ministry to have had to require assistance to begin with. She had been concerned that he would retreat into himself again or push her away from the small intimacies he would allow. Instead, Lucius began to push the boundaries of his own sensibilities and his curfew. And by late winter while he wouldn’t say those three words with his own voice or another phrase of three words, he showed it. From the small lingering soft touches instigated by him, to how he unguardedly he would look at her. And to the way he would kiss her. Each and every one of her own scars.

With a wicked smirk saying, “perfection.”


End file.
